Your Man is Cheating on You!

Lately I've been trying to break out of my vampire-like sleeping pattern. What a fail. I tried to fall asleep at 3 am (I usually sleep at around 7-8 am) but I hadn't heard from *C all day. Ok, I know that sounds pathetic. But the man has called me before he goes to bed ever since August. Never missed a night, unless we were sleeping in the same bed of course. It's Saturday night so I'm thinking maybe he went to the club. But he never clubs without informing me first. (For the record, I'm not a psycho girlfriend... he does this without me asking.I actually encourage him to go out.I got people all over the city anyway.) Throughout the night I called him twice and messaged him once on msn .No reply. I'm actually getting worried something has happened to him at this point.

I walk into the kitchen. A certain book on the shelf catches my eye. It's called, "The Ultimate Sex Test" by Smith and Doe. We bought it from Value Village as a joke for a friend last year. I decide to flip through it to take my mind of the situation. Bad idea. The first thing I read is:

Our shocking research for WHAT MEN DON'T WANT WOMEN TO KNOW proved that fully 96.4 % of all men either have cheated, are currently cheating, or believe they will cheat in the future. This is a fact of life. If you don't believe it, ask Sally Jesse Raphael.

I'm like okay bud...Sally Jesse Raphael? I chuckle and read on.

Although your first response will probably be to grant our figures are true for men in general, you will think, not your man. Think again. Unless he is chained in the basement, hopelessly gay, or pitifully dysfunctional, it is your man!

I'm thinking. Whatever. I've known my man since High School. He's not a cheater. He respects me and women in general way too much. 96.4 % eh? Come to think about it... all of my girlfriends have had their asses cheated on by their boyfriends. Shit. *C hasn't called me. It's Saturday night. Fuck. Man, I should've gone to the Afterhours Club with *Kelly and *Matt is what I'm thinking. I decide to call him one more time. It's around 4 am. He picks up sounding awfully groggy. I try to play it cool and nonchallantly ask him where he's been all night. He says out with the boys, but his story isn't adding up and he's starting to stutter and mumble all over the fuckin' place. So I call him out on it. I ask him why is he stuttering so much. He sighs and says fine I'll tell you. Wow, here it goes. Another fuckin' woman scorned. He says... I puked all night. I can feel the embarassment in this voice. I start crackin' up so much, I must have woken up a neighbour or two. He starts laughing his ass off too and says it was on the same level as boat cruise. (He came to my prom aftergrad where I made him chug a bottle of vodka with me before we got on a boat for the rest of the night.) We talk on the phone for a little longer, just talking about our day/night and how we plan on playing matchmaker for a couple friends of ours.

I go back to reading the book before bed.

Meditation of the Day
"A man stranded on a desert island who will not have sex with a chicken is not man enough for me"

The fuck! If my man fucks a chicken then he's good enough for me? Hahahaha. This is probably the funniest book I've read. Ever. I've decided to dedicate a weekly post to it called : The UST Lesson of The Week. I'm actually serious. It's too funny to keep to myself.

Current...
Mood:Sleepy
Song:Simple kind of Life by No doubt